


The Distance Route

by Grimmy88



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Communication, Communication Failure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Communication, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, here or there to help the plot, loss of friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: A trade for the lovely aghxst on tumblr. He wanted something that is, essentially, the opposite of 'Domestic Route.' I will also warn that he wanted this story to hurt:What if things don't work out so well for Ellis after the apocalypse? What if he loses everyone and thus himself, finding it too hard to be around his friends after his period of mourning? He chooses a different path, one that leaves his relationship with Nick in pieces.This is a story that spans across several years.
Relationships: (briefly) - Relationship, Ellis/Nick (Left 4 Dead), Ellis/others, Nick/OC
Comments: 23
Kudos: 39





	The Distance Route

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ghostingby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostingby/gifts).



Their helicopter ride to safety had been an extended one. Which, on the one hand was good—the further the better from the thousands of infected that had been trying so desperately to tear them limb from limb. The other hand, though, that was the bitch of it because all those miles covered by air were done in the most utilitarian helicopter that could’ve rescued them.

Well, something about gift horses and all that, but Nick had always been somewhat of a complainer.

It wasn’t so bad once they reached the safe zone. Once the door had dropped, he’d known immediately they’d flown somewhere up north. It meant they’d gone further than they’d expected, and for once in his life, he’d hoped he’d ended up out in the middle of nowhere.

He’d gotten his wish. He’d also gotten that shower he’d been so desperately wanting—though it was hard to enjoy one where the scrubbing was done for you until your skin was pink and multiple doctors in hazmat suits were analyzing every inch of your naked body.

The wounds he and his teammates had sustained worried them at first, led the medical team to quarantine them away from the other carriers until it was certain they wouldn’t turn. After that they were processed and inducted into survivor life. Which was essentially camping, only their tents were sectioned off in one part of the compound, separated from the researchers and army personnel.

Rochelle, naturally, had been placed in a tent with another woman, but the overseers had been decent enough to place it near her male teammates’. There were so few women in the camp that the army had figured best to let them stay with or at least near their groups for protection.

As for Coach, with his height and girth, he’d been given his own tent. That had left Nick and Ellis in their own, with two cots on either side and only a sliver of space between them. They weren’t mattresses from a four-star hotel or anything but considering the few minutes sleep they’d gotten over the course of the apocalypse against cement and metal, they felt close enough to heaven for their aching backs.

As for the rest of it, adapting to camp life hadn’t been as hard or dangerous as anyone, including the soldiers, had thought. Most people in the compound just wanted to survive, and for the most part they were left to their own devices, or any devices the army could get for them, be it board games or employing them to help with construction.

The best thing they provide, of course, is alcohol. It’s a rarity, and one that’s celebrated throughout the camp by big fires around which the groups meld together to talk and sing. Nick should hate it, but he doesn’t.

This night he and his friends are sitting among a bigger group around one of the fires, laughing and passing bottles back and forth. They’ve come to know these people, have come to share stories and more with them.

Tonight, he’s sitting next to a woman who has repeatedly made it clear she’d like to share more than that with him. He sips his beer and listens to her, leans away when she tries to put her hand on his. At one point he goes to roll his eyes at Ellis but finds him gone from his side. He looks around for him, trying to spot the dark color of the jacket he’d been given or the hood that he keeps pulled up over his ears against the chill. He expects to find him among the younger survivors, but no matter which way he cants his head, he doesn’t find him.

He swallows down his last sip of beer and rises, excusing himself from his friends and persistent admirer to slip off between the shadows of the tents. Before he goes, he makes sure to snag two more beers from one of the coolers to bring in offering, considering he’s going to be crashing the kid’s solitude.

The younger man had found himself a pretty good spot a while ago, somewhere within and yet away from the rest of the camp. It was a platform, maybe a hiccup in the design of this place in odd the way it jutted out from beneath one of the watchtowers. The soldiers hadn’t seemed to care that Ellis was there, so long as he was inside.

It wasn’t as if he went there often. Hell, Nick hadn’t even known about it until after there had been a scuffle between some survivors. No one had been seriously hurt but Ellis had gotten involved trying to defend someone, which hadn’t come as a surprise. What had surprised him was that when he’d beelined to their tent to check in on the younger man, he hadn’t been there. It had taken him a good forty minutes before, on a whim (and because he’d checked literally everywhere else), he’d slipped between where the perimeter wall and one of the watch towers left a little gap. There he’d found the kid, one leg hanging over the edge of his perch.

That’s where he knows he’ll find him now, though no leg is there to confirm it.

“You up there, Cletus?”

Ellis' face, darkened by shadows that make the pink of his cheeks and nose maroon, pops into view. He grins. “Hey, man. Get sick’a the party?”

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” Nick replies. He’s not usually one to seek out solitude, especially not when there’s alcohol.

“Oh,” the southerner says and then lies, badly: “Juss got’ta be a bit loud, y’know?”

No, Nick doesn’t know, but figures he might understand when he can get a closer look at his former teammate’s face. “Take these.” He holds up the beers and then vaults himself up onto the little, hidden square.

He shuffles to put his back against the tower’s wall next to Ellis, so close their shoulders and arms and legs touch. It’s probably a good thing, for the tremble that’s working its way through the smaller man’s body. Nick figures he’s got some heat to share for someone who so readily sheds his.

They crack open their drinks and take the first few sips in silence. Back here there’s nowhere to look but up, so that’s what they do. It’s a bit cliché, but what else are they gonna do? Without the light pollution, the night sky is almost hypnotic with how many stars he’s never seen in his life, with the deep flush of colors that swirl above them. It’s like seeing someone’s face after so long and relearning every freckle.

He’s done just that with Ellis near every day. He’d met him when there’d already been a bruise marring his sharp cheekbone and the damage had only added up during their journey—his eye sockets had become discolored, the bridge of his nose cut, and by the end of it he’d been layered in muck and grime. Nick had already thought on how handsome he was but found that description lacking when he discovered just how nicely he cleaned up. When the bruises had faded and cuts healed, it hadn’t taken long for the entire camp to realize how beautiful the southern man was.

There’s plenty of young survivors here, men and women, who had been drawn to him immediately. It’s understandable considering their surroundings. It’s a lot like being in a rabbit cage for how starved for contact people are. Plenty of them look for comfort, for sex, for a million things they’d been looking for before the zombies had brought civilization to a standstill.

Ellis hasn’t paid them any mind. The conman knows why; it’s the same reason he’d walked away from the festivities that night. And it’s the same reason he’s looking over that youthful, pretty profile right now.

He’d noticed before they’d been rescued. Noticed the little nudges the kid would find a way to give him, the compliments, and of course the teasing. Ellis had known what he was doing. And he’d known who Nick had been before, knew his skillset, knew he’d recognize it in his body language, in his face, in his voice.

Even tonight, he’d known—or _hoped_ —that Nick would follow him. The smile his face splits into when he meets the other man’s eyes makes that perfectly clear.

He’s been making it clearer almost every day. The northerner supposes he’d just needed to be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to get rebuffed.

Now he is, more than ever, when Ellis asks: “Surprisedjya managed’ta get away from Karina.”

Nick smiles into his bottle, lowering his head to hide it. “Almost had to sacrifice my arm, but somehow I made it.” He nudges against him. “All to sit here and watch you freeze to death.”

His friend laughs, a white puff that dissipates in the meager space between them. “I ain’t so cold no more.”

“No?” the card shark asks, soft and low. He likes the way Ellis’ eyes drop to his lips when he hears his voice lower. He likes the way they snap right back up to his eyes, disbelief shading them as much as the night when Nick reaches out and takes one of the strings of his hoodie between his fingers.

He can feel the vibration he causes by sliding his fingers down the braided fabric. He hopes it transfers back under that jacket and against his skin. Maybe it does, or maybe Ellis is just pleased by the proximity, because his eyes go half-mast and his mouth curls from its surprise into something hopeful and almost reserved.

Nick rewards that hope by leaning into his space, by pressing as tender a kiss as he can manage to his lips. He keeps it chaste, lingers a bit when he withdraws so it’s an easy thing for a callused hand to reach out and cup his jaw, to hold him steady while Ellis retaliates with his own caress.

He can’t touch the younger man the way he wants through the layers of his hoodie and jacket, so he drops a heavy hand to his thigh. He rubs there with his fingertips, wanting to feel, wanting contact rather than arousal. Cold fingers drop atop his a moment later and curl.

They stay there for long minutes, sharing kisses and air and smiles. Ellis laughs first and it’s a contagious mirth. Nick rests his nose against his cheek so he can feel the puffs of it on his skin.

He’s not sure what to say when he finally leans back enough to see the other man’s expression. Turns out it’s not necessary; Ellis has his own curiosity to quench. He puts down his beer so he can bring around his dominant hand and set frigid fingertips to the older man’s jaw. He rubs his fingers against the stubble there, then curls them so he can feel it against the softer skin just under his knuckles, too.

Nick leans into it, flutters his eyes because his first instinct is to shut them, but he fights it because he wants to watch the southerner study him. He gives these little half-laughs while he does it, like he can’t believe they’re here at this moment. The ex-con thinks it’s been a long time coming, but still feels as light with astonishment as Ellis looks.

The mechanic leans against him. It’s awkward so Nick makes it comfortable by putting his arm around him. Ellis sags his head back and laughs again at the sky. Nick puts his bottle back in his hand so he can drink at it, too.

They spend a good amount of time sitting there, trading sips and quiet words. The older man wonders if they could spend the night like this, but Ellis answers his question by announcing how numb his ass has gotten from the cold concrete beneath them. With anyone else it might’ve ruined the moment; between them it erupts a new round of laughter that they try to quiet as they make their way back to their tent.

They don’t sleep together that night, and it takes them another few to push their cots together. They reposition their space heater and are grateful for the extra room to move around inside their tiny living area. Most importantly, Ellis relishes passing his nights without shivering, covered as his back always is by the northerner’s chest.

To say that being with the bassist is different from his former relationships is a massive understatement. Nick usually rushes headlong into things—metaphorically, sure, but also literally with his dick. He’s used to keeping that part of his life tucked away, out of everybody else’s sight and business. He’s limited his emotions because the last time he didn’t—well, that had ended in a pretty nasty divorce and a shoe thrown at his head.

But Ellis isn’t like him. Ellis is full of effortless affection and he demands attention as if it were the easiest request in the world. It’s odd, for the first day or two, but after that it’s hard to deny him. It’s hard to hide it away when the younger man always presses so close to him, always kisses him so brashly out in the open. He doesn’t have hang ups like the gambler does. He doesn’t worry what their friends will think. He doesn’t _care_ what anyone in the camp will think.

Ellis tells him why one day. “Figure we’ve survived the worst thing that could’a happened’ta us. Ain’t nothin’ they’kin throw at us worse’n that.”

That’s good enough for Nick. Good enough to toss his arm over the smaller man’s shoulders when they’re standing out in the cold. Good enough to let himself receive this attention. Good enough to try.

He tries in the bedroom, too—or rather, in their tent. He knows Ellis hasn’t been in a relationship with men before, though the southerner doesn’t seem to have any qualms about his sexuality. To Nick’s delight, he even admits to having experimented with himself after watching porn.

It’s somewhere to start, somewhere to go from as they explore each other like they have all the time in the world. Which, with the way things are proceeding in the camp, with the good news from outside of it, they might. There’s a thought.

It’s one that lets him enjoy taking it slow. That lets _them_ enjoy being slow with one another, with savoring the discovery. It allows him to learn Ellis’ body better than his own. He maps it, traces its lines with his mouth and fingers, teases its most sensitive parts until callused fingers are digging into the muscles of his back in breathtaking agony.

He hesitates to say he has favorite parts of Ellis, but he doesn’t hesitate, even in his mind, to admit the things he loves about his body. At the top of that list is his sensitivity. He can get the younger man worked up, sporting an erection in the tight jeans he wears all with a carefully hummed breath on his pulse point. He can make his chest flush, redder than a sunburn, and arched so high Nick feels like his back is going to hit the top of the tent whenever he takes a nipple in his mouth.

He can fuck an orgasm out of him without taking his cock in hand, knows it’s coming when his eyes glaze over, when his mouth opens wide, when his arms splay out against the bed and his pectorals bounce with each slap of Nick’s hips against him.

Ellis always curses, always moans with abandon because he can’t help either. Not with how hard he shudders. Not with how high and fast his cum shoots. And he keeps moaning as Nick hammers to his own completion inside him.

Sometimes he pulls out, slides down immediately so he can take that purple cockhead into his mouth and wring a second, almost painful orgasm out of the over-sensitized head. Ellis bucks against him, jerking and shivering, muscles contracting in a way that’s so masculine the conman has to run his hands over them. He goes for as long as the bassist will allow, trying to pull the little whimpers Ellis always gives from the back of his throat.

Those callused hands end up yanking him away by his hair, but it’s always to see white teeth grinning above him.

Sometimes he doesn’t pull out. Sometimes he presses Ellis down into the mattress and lies there, buried inside and grinding, grumbling into the smiling mouth that opens against him.

Mostly, the shorter man pulls away, cleaning them so that he can plop down against Nick and draw his arm up where he wants it. Where the gambler appreciates deep, massaging touches, Ellis responds the most when he grazes his fingers up the knobs of his spine. It’s almost like it lengthens beneath his touch for how cat-like the younger survivor’s stretches are in response.

Another thing he likes about being with Ellis is how eager he is to return the pleasure he receives tenfold. Nick’s not as vocally responsive as his partner, but he sinks his fingers into that curly hair not only to hold him at his chest or to guide him along his dick but to pet the silky strands in appreciation. He’s convinced, as the months go on, that thick mouth was made for sucking cock.

And of course, telling his inane stories—which Nick has heard at least three times over now, but he’s stopped interrupting as he once did.

Nick has always preferred to top, but he finds he likes when Ellis thrusts inside him, uncoordinated and excited, how he tries to kiss the older man through his orgasm, but it gets messy and disjointed because they’re panting and chuckling too much.

Months go on and they settle into each other and into their relationship. Things are, for the most part, uncomplicated. Most of their problems come from annoyance at other survivors rather than each other. When they do fight Nick finds it easy to shrug off. When it’s not as simple as that they stew for a bit and then talk it out and apologize. He remembers a time when that had been impossible for him.

He becomes so distracted by the new and good things that the apocalypse’s anniversary sneaks up on him. He supposes they’ve all found multiple outlets to keep themselves busy, though he prefers his to his teammates’.

Coach has become something of a motivational speaker amongst their new community, especially on Sunday mornings when he helps another man hold mass for the people who’ve held onto their faith.

Rochelle is always writing. Nick has no doubts she’ll go back to journalism and reporting once they’re allowed out into the world. For now, she catalogues everything that has happened to them and everything that continues to happen. One day it’ll make a hell of a book.

Ellis is the most humble and honorable of them. He volunteers his time and skills for the military. He helps them fix up their vehicles or helps them fix piping and crumbling infrastructure to the best of his ability. And his ability is damn good.

As for Nick, he volunteers in the ranging parties that go out to collect supplies. They’re mainly made up of army personnel, especially those who have tested positive as carriers, but they take some of the more useful survivors along. The gambler proves to be just that to them on the practice range. It’s not a dangerous job—not after the winter had wiped out the majority of the infected. The specials are another story—but they’re mitigated by the heavy weaponry of the military anyway.

Nick always comes back without a scratch. Nick also always comes back with his pockets and backpack full.

The goal of these sorties is to bring back the necessities. And they do. The army takes the food and toiletries and sorts through them. Nick sorts through the non-essentials. He sorts through the candy and the pills and the lube and the condoms and anything else he can sneak in for the hopelessly desperate people in camp. It makes him somewhat of a celebrity.

They, of course, aren’t the only ones who keep busy. The entire reason the military had even kept so many carriers in one place was because of the demands of the virologists. The medical team was always working, but none harder than the few focused on searching for a cure. None of the doctors are carriers, so Nick has only gotten glances of them as they pass in their hazmat suits. But, even hidden away from the sickness as they are, the exhaustion is evident in their gait and the sag of their shoulders. He’s told one day they’re forced to alternate four hour sleeping shifts just to keep the research constant.

It pays off, though. Eighteen months after the infection, and after too many failed trials to count, they announce a successful vaccine. The science of it is beyond the conman, but Rochelle seems to understand everything she jots down in between her rapid-fire questions. He can see the happiness in her eyes and is glad she celebrates the way she loves.

The rest of them celebrate by getting drunk—which is really the only way they _could_.

The proof comes later, when the doctors hold their own celebration by walking amongst the survivors, mask-free and smiling with shining relief.

It takes a while for the solution to be made and distributed, for the solution to be shared with the world. The first place it needs to go are out to the cruise ships floating just outside the country with hundreds of thousands of people who had gotten out before exposure to the virus. Understandably, their camp is told to be patient for a while longer.

Turns out to be an easy thing for him and Ellis, distracted as they are by one another. Now even more so with that hope dangling on a string just out of their reach. It remains unspoken between them, but Nick figures they’ll reach for it. He has no idea what will happen when they finally grab hold of it, but he’s not too worried about whatever’s going to fall on their head when they give it a tug.

Thing is if he’d stopped and thought about the times before—his times before—he could’ve prepared himself. He would’ve remembered the times he’d pulled that string and got piled on by shit for the effort. He would’ve remembered the times he’d stepped closer to grab it only for the rug beneath him to be whisked away.

But he doesn’t, and he’s so caught up in the euphoria of survival, of Ellis’ smile, that he doesn’t even remember to brace himself.

It was safe to assume that eventually they’d get news of the outside world. Communication picks up between their compound and those nearby and thus more and more information starts pouring in. The driving force behind it, for every living person, is word of their family and friends. It starts with the people quarantined out on the cruise ships—they clamor for any reports about missing loved ones and the overall death toll of the virus.

In response, every ship and outpost start putting up lists. Naturally, these are lined with name after name. He assumes their own names are on similar lists with their compound’s number as its header. Most of the ones on the sheets slapped to the walls surrounding them mean nothing to their group of survivors. As time goes on a lot of them don’t find their loved one’s names. But, enough do.

Rochelle is one of them. Her brothers made it to safety and were kept at another outpost due to their status as carriers. Along that vein, Coach also learns that his brother has survived, as well. He’d gotten onto one of the early evacs.

Nick doesn’t expect much for himself. He only ever checks in passing when he returns from a supply run because of his curiosity regarding the amount of people overall who had survived. So, it blindsides him when he glances at the names after a drop and finds his step-mother’s listed among the survivors of one of the cruise ships.

He stares at it for a long time, thinking of her out there alone and wondering about him. That’s the whole reason she’d given her name—that motherly hope that he’d made it through everything.

And once she’s vaccinated and they’re free to go, he knows she’ll be waiting.

He tells Ellis that night. His lover’s face splits in a grin wider than his own had been and pulls him into a tight hug. With his face pressed against Nick’s neck, he feels no shame in asking if seeing her is where they’ll be heading first. The gambler is too astonished to reply, just rests his cheek against those brown curls and feels a calm pulse beneath his fingers while he wonders.

It’s not something he gets to wonder about for long.

He’s not with Ellis when he gets the news. He’s making his way through the tents and passing off his recovered goods to different survivors. At one point he’s bartering with another ranger who has managed to find a bag of Ellis’ favorite candy. It takes some cajoling, but he ends up returning to their tent with the little bag crinkling in his pocket.

He figures the mechanic would be in their tent, washed and relaxing after his shift. Nick had gotten back last night and they’d spent those hours wrapped together. He’d been planning on continuing it.

He knows that isn’t going to happen when he walks into their row and sees Ellis on his knees, face pressed into Rochelle’s shoulder, as if her small body could hide the way he’s shaking, as if it could muffle the anguish in his sobs.

Nick drops down beside them, makes his presence known with a heavy arm around the smaller man’s back. He immediately recognizes its weight and tears himself from their friend to seek him out instead.

His face is red and swollen and wet. “Nick,” he tries, but it stumbles over the inflammation in his throat.

The northerner cups his face and doesn’t wince when short fingernails dig into the skin of his wrists.

“They’re gone,” he gasps out. “They’re all—my mom, Nick! My mom’s…” He breaks down again, sagging in the grip that holds him and hunching forward so the top of his head is against the older man’s collarbone.

Nick looks up at Rochelle to confirm it and finds her face is also wet and discolored.

He remembers when his ex-wife’s father had died. He remembers staring at her shaking shoulders and how his immediate instinct had been to bolt; to run straight out the door and keep running from the discomfort.

He doesn’t feel that way towards Ellis. He could never feel as infelicitous as he had then.

Rather, he feels something between his ribs lurch, as if trying to burst free from his sternum.

He pulls his partner to his chest to keep it in place.

It thrashes and batters his insides while Ellis claws and clings to his outsides. He thinks, vaguely, that these couldn’t be his emotions. The younger man has too many and, somehow, Nick has become storage for some of that abysmal sorrow, until it can be worked through, one agony at a time.

As the days pass, however, that pounding continues, aching and dripping melancholic acid in its wake whenever that young, drawn face pushes into him to howl in torment.

He realizes then that it’s many things:

It’s grief for his lover.

It’s a manifestation of his own inadequacy at being nothing but a pair of tight, encompassing arms. Of being fleeting lips and words.

It’s the injustice that the most hopeful of them wastes away, like water through the cracks of his cupped palms.

It’s a metaphor that’s not too far off the mark. For weeks Ellis stops going to the garage. For weeks he’s listless, prone to bouts of despondency. He eats less and so grows thinner. It’s most prominent in the way his angled, pretty face turns more and more gaunt. For others they only _see_ the change, they don’t have to feel the physicality of it like Nick does.

And he always feels it because, although his mechanic never voices it, he wants to be held. He upturns his face to receive kisses to his head and neck and shoulders though he finds it difficult to return them.

Sometimes he cries, though more often he doesn’t. More often he lies on his side on the bed with his back to Nick so he can stare at the tent wall. The conman stays with him, forgoing his ranging and trading. In fact, he barely leaves him and when he does it’s for short periods of time, mainly to collect meals. They mostly go uneaten.

Needless to say, it’s rough for a long while. Ellis had loved and been loved very deeply. It’s apparent in everything he does and has done. Emotions like that, the ones that lie so far within that they resemble the veins of a mine, can only be removed so quickly with a tearing violence that leaves scars in its wake. And hollowed as they were, it took only a heartbeat for them to be filled with sorrow and loss.

And it will take years to excavate; to clean out those feelings and replace them with something warm and sustaining.

Nick’s not the only one digging. Coach and Rochelle are constant fixtures in their life, especially the latter. She’s as willing as her fellow northerner to give up her interests, to cast aside her writing time and support Ellis instead.

Their former leader shows his in the way he seems to know best. He drags the young man out to toss around one of the footballs they’d found during one of their ventures. Nick and Rochelle always sit to the side and watch the easy back and forth. The familiar, monotonous activity seems to help, even if the bassist does it in silence more often than not.

Nick thinks things are getting better when Ellis kisses him one night, as tenderly as he used to. He whispers his gratitude, but the gambler doesn’t need that and says as much.

Eventually, they even start having sex again.

Even so, even after months, the younger survivor never eats enough. Nor does he talk enough. Nor does he smile enough.

One day he goes back to working in the garage. He manages a few hours before it proves to be too much stimulus. But that only lasts a week. By the end of it Nick has to go and physically retrieve him for dinner. From there his schedule turns into full days hidden away and working his hands raw on vehicles and engines and anything else within his reach. Nick naively thinks it’s a good thing that he involves himself in something that had once meant so much to him. He lets himself go back to ranging and scavenging because of it.

And when he comes back, they fall into one another just like they had before.

So maybe it’s his fault. Maybe he hadn’t paid enough attention. Maybe he had come off as if he hadn’t cared. There’s so many maybes in his head the day he finds himself flat on his back, floundering at how solidly he’d been kicked off his feet.

Ellis is sitting with him one of the few days they have left before they leave the camp. Days before the world is set to reopen. There’s a lot of work to be done and considering the zombies have died off and all the survivors have been vaccinated it feels like the right time to go and rebuild. Both society and their personal lives.

His lovers seems to agree, though more so with the former notion.

“They need guys out there, helpin’ with their vehicles an’ rebuildin’,” he says.

“They need that everywhere,” Nick retorts, feeling as if their cot were out on open water, rocking fiercely with every wave splashing over the side and soaking him in frigid dread.

To his credit, the mechanic doesn’t look away from him. “They asked me’ta go with’em. They want me’ta go.” He hesitates when the older man finds it too hard to maintain that eye contact. “Think I’kin do some good if I do.”

_You think you can go distract yourself_ , Nick thinks savagely. He knows it isn’t fair, which is why he doesn’t say it out loud. Ellis wants to work and think of nothing else. He doesn’t want to go home and see reminders of what he’s lost. He doesn’t want to see _any_ reminders.

Which is exactly what Nick is, isn’t it?

He feels rage and hurt well up inside of him in equal measure. The hurt is new. That’s a part of himself he’s always been able to cut off, to wall away until it sours into sharp bitterness, primed as a weapon.

But not this time. This time it’s raw and bloody, pounding away in his head and chest, flooding him to immobility.

“So, this is over,” he finally says in a hoarse voice. “That’s what you’re saying.” He shrugs a shoulder, tries to collect himself, tries to remember how to put it all behind his mask. He doesn’t remember playing a poker game with such high stakes before, though. “That’s fine. Do what you gotta do, Ellis.”

The younger man stands with him and catches his arm before he can leave the tent and go somewhere private to smoke ten packs of cigarettes. “Nick, that _ain’t_ what I’m sayin’.”

“No?” He rounds and faces him. “You want to leave—to go who the fuck knows where for who the fuck knows how long to work on cars. And you’re going alone.” He tilts his head. “So, if that’s not ending this, what is it?”

Ellis shakes his head and reaches down to take Nick’s other hand. “I don’t wanna end it… I juss—I think I need’ta do this. Fer both’uv us.”

“Both of us? When did I ever say this is what I wanted?”

“You don’t hafta say it, man. I’kin see it. How many months have y’been here, holdin’ me together?” He bows his head as if ashamed. “How many ranges did I holdjya back from? How far down have I broughtchy’all?”

“You didn’t ask for that, and I told you—how many times have I told you?—that you didn’t have to. You think me and Rochelle and Coach weren’t gonna be here for you? That we were gonna let you sit in some corner and waste away?”

“No, ’course not,” Ellis mumbles. “No, y’all are the best friends I could’uv asked for.”

“And now you wanna leave.”

“It’s not that I wanna, it’s that I need’ta.” He steps closer, tilts his head back up, shame replaced by determination. It’s then that Nick knows his words aren’t going to stick; this little plan is already firmly rooted and growing. “I been nothin’ but a burden to y’all… an’ I was pretty useless until I started workin’ again.”

“When did I say anything like that?”

“Y’didn’t,” Ellis explains with a soft smile. “I know y’wouldn’t. Don’t make it any less true.” He squeezes the older man’s fingers. “Another truth is… I juss ain’t been Ellis lately. Not the Ellis y’all knew an’ fought with. Not the Ellis…”

_The Ellis you love_ , he doesn’t say.

“Way I see it… it ain’t fair’ta go along witch’ya and hope he shows up again while you’re tryin’ta get your life back together, too.”

_I didn’t want to get that life back together_.

“So, for a little while… I figure we’kin put this on hold?” His eyebrows curl in question. “Is that okay?” He watches the tension pass through his lover’s face and links their fingers together. “I mean—y’don’t hafta wait…but y’know, maybe you’kin stay in touch an’ we’kin try somewhere down the road…”

Nick looks down at their hands. “What do you want, Ellis?”

“…I been selfish enough lately—”

“Be selfish,” he orders tightly. “What do you want?”

“I want you’ta wait.”

Nick hates the hope that weaves its way through the dull ache in his chest. “How long?”

“I dunno… a couple months? A year?”

The conman feels his jaw tighten, but mostly he feels the screaming need for nicotine in the back of his skull. He knows that’s not how it’s going to happen. Knows far better than Ellis ever will that if the young man walks out of this camp without him, they might never see each other again. And even if they do, it won’t be the same. How could it?

He makes another move to leave but Ellis holds him tight, winds his arms around his middle, tucks his head under his chin and asks him to stay. So, he does. He stays every night they have together until it’s time to leave. He holds him, returns the kisses, pretends that everything is fine up until it isn’t.

Nick and Rochelle are heading back north. There’s a bus waiting for them and some of the others who plan to go and find out what happened to their homes and loved ones. The reporter boards first after saying her tearful goodbyes and Coach shakes his hand, making him promise to call, before he leaves his teammates alone.

Ellis already has the gambler’s phone number and e-mail in his pocket. Nick has also left bite marks along his neck and shoulders so that he remembers. Beyond that, what is there to do or say? His mechanic hugs him, tucks his face into his throat and breathes him in.

“I love you,” he says.

Nick believes him, but he guesses that’s not enough. He kisses Ellis on the forehead, then on the lips, and lets him go.

He lets Rochelle have the window seat and doesn’t try to look over her as they pull away.

The military doesn’t let people return to the major cities. Nick can’t imagine how many people could’ve survived that there’s such a high number clamoring to go back, but the denial doesn’t bother him anyway. If the virus was going to mutate, moving back into those packed places would be a death trap. He’ll leave it to the clean up crews until the public is told otherwise.

The decree means that survivors gather in the suburbs. They are held in gyms and schools until houses and apartments are cleared for living. Rochelle heads to the ones outside Cleveland to find her brothers. He has no doubt she’ll keep in touch so he’s not so sad to hug her goodbye—for now.

Besides, if his hunch is right, he’ll probably end up seeing her on television sooner rather than later.

Nick travels to the suburbs outside of Chicago. It’s where his stepmother, Diana, had lived and where he knows she’ll return. He has another hunch that she knows he’s going to be waiting for her. It ends up being a good choice, anyway. His boss, Sal, had always preferred Chicago, and with his connections to every major city, he hadn’t needed to move. The gambler figures if any of his former associates have survived, it’s him.

That takes a backseat to his mother, of course.

To his surprise and luck, her complex hadn’t had its foundations compromised. The landlord and all his tenants must have made it out together, because when Nick enters he’s in the front hall cleaning up some glass. Other than that, the place looks remarkably well for having survived zombies. Hell, Diana’s apartment seems to have stayed locked throughout the entire ordeal for how clean it is inside. Well, save for the smell of rotting food that he takes care of for her after proving his identity to the owner and obtaining a key.

He ends up staying there for two weeks without her. Every day people are shipped in at the local bus station. He waits around, as everyone within and outside the building does, until there’s nobody left and then returns home. Then, one day, she’s there, shuffling within the crowd, thinner than he remembers but alive. Her eyes flick here and there, unable to focus on any one face too long.

Her eyes do eventually fall on him before he can reach out and surprise her. He thinks it’s better this way, to see the way they open wide and then go wet. She cries against his chest and he holds her like she used to hold him when he was small enough to be. When she can, she pulls his face down to dot it with grateful kisses.

They spend the first two days together, grateful that the other is alive and nothing more. On the third they share their escape stories—his is much longer and terrifying than hers, or so she claims. He tells her about his friends, too.

He tells her about Ellis.

She’s surprised, though not about his sexuality. No, she’s known that since he was young. She’s surprised, she says, that he isn’t here. She asks outright when she’s going to meet him.

Nick isn’t sure what to tell her.

It turns out Diana was able to get to safety with her cell phone intact. She’d been trying to call him, but he distinctly remembers his phone shattering out of his pocket when he’d been sprinting to the top of a burning hotel. Still, until he can figure out if he’ll be able to get his own within the next few months, he at least has one to use.

He thinks, briefly, about calling Ellis. He doesn’t because he doubts the younger man has found a way to get a new phone. And he doesn’t because there’s a part of him, some stupid, immature part that wants his former lover to prove the words he’d said in that tent.

As it is, the first person he calls is his former boss.

Sal doesn’t pick up, though Nick hadn’t expected him to answer a number he doesn’t recognize. He leaves a message, telling the man to call if he’s not dead. He expects, if he gets a reply at all, for it to come a week or two later. He doesn’t expect it to come _hours_ later.

He doesn’t expect to drive himself to his house a few days later to talk business, but that’s what happens.

Sal’s family made it, though that’s no surprise with the goddamn castle they live in. He’s definitely envious, but it’s mitigated by the way the little Italian man greets him with open arms outside his front door. He’d always had a soft spot for Nick and his relief at having one of his best conmen survive is evident on his face. His wife and son are glad to see him, too, which makes sense since he’s known them for years.

As he expects, Sal doesn’t have any work. Not with the world torn asunder as it is. Not yet.

“But you have money put away,” he assumes with a wave of his hand. “You’re fine.”

Nick has enough for now, but he frowns and thinks about the future and his stepmother.

Sal picks up on it. “You need a loan?”

“I know better than to take a loan from you.”

The other man laughs, bouncing a bit in his leather chair. He has a drink in one of his hands and he moves it in a circle, watching the way the ice follows the lead set out by his wrist. “You need a _gift_?”

The card shark narrows his eyes. Even Sal’s gifts have interest. “What’s the catch?”

“Ah, Nicky,” his former boss laughs. “Nothing you can’t pay. You came to me, after all. And all _I_ need is for you to stick around—for you to give me your word that once I get jobs, you’re gonna work them.”

It’s an easy thing to promise, even with the trifling little thought somewhere in the back of his mind reminding him that he hadn’t wanted this back in the camp.

But it’s easy and familiar and it’ll make him money. He’s not sure anything else is more important right now.

The money makes living and rebuilding in a slowly reawakening world easier. He’s able to support Diana the way she needs, because he sure as hell doesn’t want her working right now. Honestly, he never wants her out on the frontlines ever again because there’s no guarantee that the virus couldn’t mutate and send the world right back to hell. There’s no guarantee that the vaccine could save them all from the things he’d seen.

If that ends up being the future, there’s not much he can do to change it, but he can keep her home and diminish the risk to the only person he has left to protect.

Predictably, Nick finds it hard to stay cooped up in the apartment all day. The first thing he does when he starts venturing out is catalogue which shops and services are reopening. Naturally they’re goods and services—things people need to survive like grocery stores and even a few restaurants here and there.

Every one of them has a ‘NOW HIRING’ sign in the window.

It takes time, but eventually the service he really needs becomes available and, after waiting for the better part of a day, Nick has his own phone once again. He even manages to keep his old number so he’s able to shoot off a text to his friends so they know. Rochelle responds almost immediately, Coach a couple days later because he’d been waiting just as the conman had.

It opens up a connection between them again, though. Their leader messages them at least once a week. The reporter, though, she messages Nick every day. Oftentimes she calls. They start out as short conversations but sometimes the gambler will look at the clock after they’re done and he’ll realize he’s just lost an hour of his day.

He doesn’t tell her to stop, though.

It’s a comfort to hear their voices, but sometimes it’s a depression. Like the times he asks if they’ve heard from Ellis yet. They haven’t, and he supposes he’s grateful he’s not alone in that.

Months pass and they don’t hear from him. An ugly part of Nick wonders if he’d purposefully put off obtaining another cell phone just to delay contact. It’s an unfounded thing, what with the mechanic’s last words to him being his selfish declaration which Nick reiterates in his mind every night just as selfishly.

The person who _does_ start calling him regularly is Sal. Diana isn’t happy about it when she finds out, but he takes each job as they come anyway. They’re something to do…something that pays. He doesn’t run small jobs of screwing people or casinos out of money anymore, either. The old Italian man had lost most of his lackeys, so he has Nick acting as his liaison with certain unsavory businesses looking for a bit of money to start up again. As for now, it all seems within the legality of their new world. For now.

Nick knows he won’t care when it crosses the line. He never did before.

He gets pretty close on his most recent job. He’s tasked to visit a former client; some guy who thought he could start his work up again without paying off his former debts. He’s probably banking on the hope that his money lenders had been zombie food. It’s unfortunate for him that’s not the case. It’s more unfortunate that Nick’s not sent to handle it alone. One of the former crew, a guy named Frankie, comes as ‘back up.’ The guy is essentially a wall, usually sedentary and meant to intimidate people rather than act. Nick knows when he sees him there’s going to be violence.

And there is, right after their former client spits on Nick’s shoe.

Frankie makes him leave the room. The gambler thinks on how much blood and death he’d seen both before and during the apocalypse, and yet, still, he’s glad the door shuts between him and the visual of it. He walks into the next room and rests against the wall, grateful he doesn’t have to hear it, either.

He pulls out a cigarette with shaky fingers and hurriedly sucks down the nicotine instead of thinking about why this moment has him so jittery.

His phone chirps in his pocket one, two, three, _four_ times.

Agitated, he pulls it out to see that the text messages are from a number he doesn’t know.

_Hey! I got a phone!_

_Had to get a new number though_

_This is Ellis, by the way_

_Got some time off today_

“Nick,” Frankie interrupts, jolting the smirk right off his face. Their client is more willing to talk now, apparently, and so the conman doesn’t get to look at his phone again until a couple hours later.

Even with those hours to think about it, he isn’t sure what to text so he calls.

Ellis picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“ _Nick_ ,” his former lover breathes. He can hear the way it has spilled out from between his grinning teeth. “Oh, man.”

The northerner chuckles. “What?”

“Nothin’, it’s juss _real_ good’ta hear yer voice.”

“Yeah?” Nick has shut himself inside his room to talk to him, not because he’s afraid of Diana eavesdropping, but more so to keep himself from pacing the entirety of the apartment fifty times. He realizes it’s the right decision once his feet start moving. “How are you?”

“I’m… I’m alright, Nick. How’re you? Y’sound good…”

“I sound good; how does someone sound good?”

“Yer teasin’ me fer starters.”

“Teasing you is easy, Overalls,” he murmurs, but relents. “But yeah, I’m good.”

“I’m real glad.” Ellis pauses before his next question: “…Y’got time’ta talk or…?”

Nick smiles and lets himself sit down, back against his pillows. “Yeah, I got time.”

He doesn’t get much sleep that night.

For a long while after that, until the year starts turning cold again, he and Ellis talk on the phone every day. They don’t always get the hours they want—especially with Ellis’ new stories, but they make do. The younger man isn’t always chipper. There’s still something in his head that that inhibits his sentences, that causes him to fall silent and sullen within the span of a sentence, but Nick doesn’t let it bother him. He’s fine if his former lover just needs to feel like he can sense the card shark’s presence through the line.

But, gradually, their calls stop being an everyday thing. They turn into an every-other-day thing and then a twice-a-week thing and then a weekend call. Nick tells himself it’s a good idea. What could possibly happen within the span of twenty-four hours that they’d need to talk every day? It’s not like he’s willing to discuss _his_ work anyway, so he lets Ellis babble on about what he’s fixing or building at the time.

It also works out because it doesn’t get in the way of his job. He doesn’t have to step away from any clients or their renewed crew to take a call and force everyone to wait. He didn’t care that he did it before, but it’s probably a good thing that it’s stopped.

And this is how it continues into the winter.

One cold December day, he gets a text from Rochelle asking him about Christmas. They’d spent two of them together in that camp, so he supposes it’s not such an odd question, even now that they’ve all found their families. He still doesn’t want to impose with her brothers or Coach’s, for that matter.

He invites them to come and visit for New Years instead, and Rochelle says that she’ll take him up on it. He’s long since moved into an apartment up a floor from his mother, so he has the extra bedroom and a couch for visitors, if Coach decides he wants to come, though he doesn’t expect the older man to.

He does send a text to Ellis’ phone, because for some reason he’s too much of a coward to bring it up during one of their calls. He doesn’t know why—the mechanic will be alone for the holiday, which he knows is something neither of them wants. Still, he messages the question and adds his address, just in case. _Let me know_ , he writes around the middle of the month.

Ellis doesn’t call him that weekend.

Something ugly twists in his gut and he wonders if it’s the cold shoulder he’s been given or the thought of the southerner with only his memories to keep him company.

The days leading up to Christmas are work-free and so he spends them with Diana, back and forth between their apartments. She’s always loved the holiday, even if his father had been less than helpful with decorations or gifts or celebrations when he was young. It had turned out fine, with Nick filling that role instead just to make her happy. As a result, he has only fond memories of his childhood Christmases.

He knows Ellis does, too. And that’s his problem.

He’s distracted by it as he and his mother sit on the couch. They’re watching _Scrooged_ , which is one of the Christmas movies he actually enjoys sitting through, but he barely registers the jokes, let alone laughs at them. Diana looks to him and she has to know what’s preoccupying him, but she doesn’t get a chance to ask him because there’s a knock on his door.

He puts an arm over the back of the couch and looks towards it, perplexed.

“Did you order something?” his mother asks.

He’d been about to ask her the same thing. He gets up to answer it, trying to figure out who it is and hoping, for the love of all things sacred, that Sal hasn’t happened to find himself in their neighborhood. But when he puts his eye to the peephole, he doesn’t see his boss.

He sees Ellis.

_The little shit_ , he thinks in an exuberant rush. He unlocks the door, all but yanks it open to stare at him, face to face.

It’s been months, but the other survivor still looks much the same. He hasn’t managed to put back on the healthy weight he’d had when they’d first met, but he no longer looks anywhere near as gaunt as he had in the camp. There are faint circles under his eyes which tell Nick he’s been doing exactly what he knew he would—work too goddamn hard to distract his mind. To feel useful.

There’s a backpack over his shoulders and a small, rolling suitcase by his feet. He’s dressed shitty for a cold, midwestern winter: there’s a beanie pulled down over his scalp and ears but his leather jacket and jeans obviously did nothing against the nip outside because the tip of his nose and the sharp curve of his cheekbones are pink and there’s a tremor in his shoulders.

But the card shark’s thoughts come to a standstill, because the younger man’s face creases in a grin when he sees Nick’s expression.

The gambler pulls him to his chest and holds him there by the back of his head. Ellis goes easily, ducking his face into Nick’s neck and holding him in turn, arms braiding about his waist.

“The hell, Ellis?” he asks, more than a little dazed.

The shorter man puffs a laugh against his skin. “Wanted’ta surprise ya.”

“Good job,” Nick congratulates. He leans back a bit to take in his face.

The bassist smiles all the wider and then, effortlessly, he leans up into the older man’s space and kisses him. Nick responds, cradling the back of his head to turn the touch deeper, to make it tender and lingering, to make it like they remember. When they part, Ellis rubs the bridge of his nose against the northerner’s jawline.

It’s so easy.

It’s just as easy to forget about his mother until she clears her throat behind them pointedly.

Abashed, he releases his former lover and turns to her.

“I don’t even need to guess,” she says when he opens his mouth. “You’re Ellis.”

The southerner nods, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “Yes, ma’am. It’s real nice’ta meetchyou. I’m real glad Nick foundjya. Heard lots’a stories aboutchyou.”

“Likewise,” she says, eyebrow primed and arched as she shakes his hand. She smiles after a moment of analyzing him. “You’ll be spending Christmas with us?”

“I was hopin’ta,” he says, looking back at Nick, “if that’s alright?”

“Of course it is,” Diana answers for her son. “Come in and get warm.” He doesn’t have much of a choice with the way she pulls him.

Nick gets his suitcase and follows them in, relocking the door behind them.

Ellis and his mother get along almost nauseatingly well. She loves to tease Nick and of course the younger man jumps at a chance to live his old pastime. They also have the same love of the holidays, but for that the conman is grateful. He’s also grateful for how much the mechanic seems to enjoy her food. She’s always loved to cook and is more than thrilled to have someone else praise her skills. Which, again, is a good thing for how thoroughly the smaller man cleans his plate. Win-win.

For the most part, things have an ease about them. It’s nice to sit with his arm over the other survivor’s shoulders on the couch and let him watch or chatter about anything he wants. It’s even easier to let himself be kissed, to give them in turn. To push the memory of those months apart into a different part of his head.

The first couple of nights Ellis sleeps in the extra bedroom, which is odd considering how handsy he is during the day. Nick wonders about it until Christmas Eve when his bedroom door opens slowly. The lights are off throughout his apartment, save for those illuminating the tree in the living room. As such, the mechanic is awash in a rainbow of colors as he hesitates in the doorway.

Nick lifts the covers.

The door shuts and Ellis’ body is warm against him. Somehow the relieved smile he gives is even warmer. The card shark pulls him close and kisses it.

He puts his hands and mouth all over the younger survivor, just like he used to. His lover is as sensitive now as he was then, arching into it, gasping and twisting his fingers in the back of his hair to hold his mouth constant. Nick’s surprised when he’s released so that Ellis can direct his hand back, passed his balls.

“You sure?” the older man asks in a whisper. It’s been months and he has no desire to hurt the other man by pushing things too far too fast.

Ellis grins and somehow it’s bright enough in the dark to make out. “So long as I get _you_ tomorrow… it bein’ Christmas an’ all.”

Nick chuckles and reaches into his bedside drawer to take out his lube. A thought occurs to him as he returns his weight atop his former teammate. “…Don’t have any condoms.”

The southerner looks to him in confusion. Then hurt, though he’s trying to keep it out of his eyebrows. “Do we need’em?” He digs his thumb into Nick’s trapezoid and massages the muscle. “…I ain’t been with anybody since you.”

The gambler hates how easy it is to forget his poker face around the younger man. How easy it is to genuinely smile the way he only has at his mother during these long months of limbo. Ellis doesn’t have the same inhibitions. He laughs gleefully and wraps both his arms and legs around Nick, trapping him to bestow fierce kisses around his face and neck.

Early in the morning, far too early for his mother to have joined them, Nick is woken. He doesn’t know by what, but he’s alone and his bedroom door is cracked. It’s still dark, but considering it’s winter and the Midwest, that doesn’t tell him much until he looks at the screen of his phone.

6:07 A.M.

He sits up and slides to the edge, noting that the mattress is still warm against his thighs. He scrounges up his boxers from the floor and his t-shirt and goes into the hall. Immediately, he can hear Ellis on the couch. He’s trying to stifle his sniffles from where he’s facing the tree.

Nick walks to him, loudly so his presence isn’t a surprise. He sits and stops his lover from wiping his face and then hiding it away by pulling him into his arms where he belongs. Ellis bows his forehead and shutters out a sigh.

“Thought I was better—M’sorry.”

“Hey,” Nick admonishes as he noses the younger man’s forehead back until it tilts. “You _are_ better.” He rests his cheek against him, trying to find the right words. “You don’t have to apologize about it.”

Ellis sags against him. “I don’t wanna be blubberin’ all day an’ ruinin’ yer Christmas. Or yer mom’s.”

“Ellis, we both want you here.” He waits a beat. “…You know I love you, right?”

The other survivor digs his fingers into his arm and then nods, almost fiercely. Gradually they find a more comfortable position to lie against one another. They talk sparingly, though he does manage to get a story out of the mechanic. It’s about Keith burning down the McKinney Christmas tree one year and Ellis’ grandfather chasing him down the street with a belt. It makes Nick smile, but that may also be because his partner manages to keep his voice level throughout the telling.

For all his worries, Ellis doesn’t break down again. There are moments it’s clear he’s on the brink—the slight tremble of his lip or the beginnings of a curve in his brows, but both Nick and Diana are quick to pick up on it. The former’s able to touch him, put an arm around him and avert it. The latter distracts him with presents and hot cocoa and cooking. Nick joins them because he doesn’t remember a year he hasn’t helped make the food and the southerner just about laughs throughout the entire process.

They drink and play some card games. They watch a movie or two and then they eat. They keep the conversation going, refusing to let a lull tempt Ellis back into his mind. And it works. By the end of the night he’s lying back against Nick on the couch, hands over his belly in satisfaction, trying to fight off a contented sleep. It’s a battle he doesn’t win, and the conman stays there long after his mother has kissed him goodnight.

The following lazy days aren’t an issue either. Mostly they stay in and catch up on the sex they’d both been so obviously missing. But sometimes they go outside. Ellis bundles up in the thick winter coat Nick had gotten him for a gift and is more than willing to brace against the chill to see new things and places, especially when it’s snowing.

He even behaves himself, only throwing _one_ snowball at Nick’s exposed skin.

Those days between Christmas and New Years are all theirs, and it feels a lot like those stolen moments from the camp, stretched out with no pressure to lend their time or skills elsewhere. It’s the first time since they’d had to part that Nick feels completely content.

It puts him in such a good mood he’s not even upset to give up that private time when Rochelle comes to spend New Year’s Eve with them. She needs to be in town for a story or something after the second anyway, so Nick offers up his now-vacant guestroom.

He doesn’t tell her about Ellis and her face is priceless when he invites her into the apartment and she finds him standing there with one those big grins scrunching up his face. When she jumps into him, he lifts her off her feet and spins her around. It’s a cute moment that’s ruined when she turns and smacks Nick’s arm in retaliation for the surprise.

He takes her bag to the bedroom and lets them talk, figuring he’ll show her around when they’re done. He’s not exactly trying to be quiet or secretive as he walks back down the hall, but Ellis’ laughter and Rochelle’s excitement drown out his footsteps so well he’s able to stop and hear when the conversation, though still light, ventures somewhere he doesn’t think the younger survivor intended.

“So, you’re staying?” their friend asks. He can hear her settling into the couch.

“Uh,” Ellis half-laughs at himself. It sounds very unsure. “I mean… I came fer Christmas; it’d be kinda sudden’ta spring somethin’ like that on him, wouldn’t it?”

“ _Is_ it sudden?”

There’s a beat, then a deep inhale. “I keep breakin’ down… Ain’t fair’ta stay here an’ be’a burden.”

“Ellis,” the reporter chastises. Obviously, it’s a topic she’s been trying to drill out of his head, even in their time apart.

He imagines the younger man shrugs. “I gotta finish up my contract first.”

“And how long is that?”

“Close’ta a year,” he answers, voice tight. “That’s another thing… ain’t fair’ta ask him’ta wait _again_ , is it?”

“Sweetie, I love you,” Rochelle says, laughter in her voice, “but you know you can be dumb sometimes, right?” He doesn’t answer beyond an amused little huff which means she got him to smile. “You are literally sitting next to me with hickeys all over your neck.”

That gets him laughing again.

When they settle down, she simply says: “Ask him.”

Thing is, during the last few days they have together, Ellis doesn’t ask. Nor does he ask when Nick says goodbye to him at the airport. He just hugs into the bigger man’s chest for a long while and when he steps back pulls his lover down by his shoulders to kiss him.

“Love you,” he murmurs, and Nick still believes him. So why do neither of them ask?

“Me, too.”

He doesn’t see Ellis again until the summer. They still talk on the phone, mostly once a week, but sometimes the calls lapse and turn into once every two weeks. Sometimes it goes a few days longer.

Nick tells himself the other man is busy. Hell, _he’s_ busy. Sal calls him more and more to settle quick matters or score some easy money. It’s not a surprise, with the warming weather rejuvenating human activity alongside the flowers and trees outside. So, it makes sense that the mechanic would have his hands full. Hero that he is, he probably forgets what day it is. He probably works himself to exhaustion and falls into a coma until he repeats it all over the next day.

It’s the distraction Ellis had wanted.

He’s grateful they at least text every day.

The younger man had moved back around Savannah, or at least somewhere nearby, because when they meet for the summer it’s at Coach’s house and Ellis beats the northerners there. Along with their former leader and his wife, the bassist is there to welcome them with open arms.

They spend a week there together—they all have work to go back to, but it’s nice to wake up and be around each other again, just as they’d been in the camp. They talk about the good memories, leave out the bad, and discuss mundane topics. And it feels good. It feels good to talk about the weather and Coach’s house and any other banal topic that pops into their minds while they’re sitting in his backyard drinking under the sun.

And at night, Nick’s grateful he’s got the guest room furthest away from everyone else so that Ellis can slip between the sheets with him. They manage to keep relatively quiet, but he still feels a little bad for the mess. Not bad enough to waste one of the few nights they have, however.

Sal tries to interrupt once. He calls in the middle of the day, forcing Nick to rise from where his arm had been around Ellis’ shoulders. He doesn’t go too far, resting one of his hips against the backyard’s fence while he answers. His boss wants him to run some jobs while he’s down there, which would prolong his visit. He doesn’t even consider asking Coach to harbor him while he’s doing some semi-illegal things, but he does glance over at Ellis who is still watching him.

The mechanic _has_ moved back into Savannah and he has to reassure Nick about ten different times that he’s fine with him staying before he’s convinced to walk through his door. His apartment has one bedroom, but the whole place is clean and comfortable. Ellis takes his bag without hesitation into his room and grins at the older man when he follows. Then, very simply, he drops one of his extra keys into the gambler’s open palm and tells him to keep it.

He unintentionally wakes Nick early when he has to go to work in the morning, but it’s actually nice to watch his naked body move throughout the room in the early morning light. It’s nice to listen to the small sounds he makes as he moves throughout the apartment as conscientiously as he can. It’s nice to go back to sleep smelling his lover on the pillow.

While he’s there, Nick mostly works during the day. The only exception is the time some clients want to meet him at a strip club. He’s so surprised that one is even up and running that his curiosity compels him to agree.

He manages to get tipsy rather than the blackout drunk his clients want. His coherence also allows him to gently push away the women they keep trying to drop in his lap. Without the diversions they settle their details quickly but the contact is unfortunately still enough for him to walk back into Ellis’ place reeking of women’s perfume and alcohol.

He figures he’ll take a quick shower, but he’s distracted when he spots Ellis’ prone form on the couch. He doesn’t have to work tomorrow, but still the thought that he’d fallen asleep waiting for Nick was _cute_. The card shark slips off his shoes and walks over, hesitating between sending him to bed or going straight into the bathroom.

He hesitates too long because Ellis’ eyes open when the floor creaks under his weight.

“Hey,” he smiles, sitting up.

“Waiting up for me?” Nick teases smugly.

His lover gives a little laugh and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a deep breath. Then he sniffs the air again. “You _stink_.”

“Yeah,” the conman agrees. “They wanted to meet in a strip club.”

“They?”

“Yeah, some guys my boss does business with.”

Ellis nods though the hesitance on his face is obvious. He manages to push through it to ask his question, though. “What kinda business?”

Nick wishes he hadn’t. “…The kind you do in strip clubs.”

“You connin’ people again?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

The younger man shrugs. “Juss surprised.”

Something rankles along the back of the northerner’s neck. “Why?”

“…Thought you said in the camp you were thinkin’a doin’ somethin’ else.”

He tries to shrug it away. “I’m good at it.”

“I know, just thought you wanted’ta try somethin’ different like you said.”

“Yeah, I said a lot of things in the camp.” It’s out before he can stop it and he clenches his fists and eyes in shame, cursing his earlier drinks and his own defensiveness.

Ellis winces.

The older man exhales slowly. “That came out wrong.”

“Okay,” is his reply, though it sounds anything but.

“Look,” Nick says, trying to salvage how serene things had been when he’d first woken, “it’s not a big deal. It’s good money and it takes care of Diana.” _Could take care of you, too,_ but he doesn’t say it. Somehow, he thinks it’ll make the awkwardness worse.

“Sure,” Ellis says quietly. “Was only rememberin’ the things you an’ me talked about.”

Which had been a conversation before the younger man’s world had shattered. Back when they’d been naïve enough to think they could make plans. Even now, Nick feels naïve.

It angers him. “It’s not like I’m killing people, Ellis.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I ain’t got one.”

Nick doesn’t believe him. “I can get a hotel room if this bothers—”

“No,” Ellis barks immediately. He reaches out and takes the bigger man’s hands, looks up at him through the shadows. “I want you’ta stay. I’m not tryin’ta guiltchya.”

The gambler searches his face to make sure and isn’t convinced by what he finds there. He _wants_ to stay, but when it comes to Ellis, especially in the last year, he doesn’t know if he can be as selfish as he wants. “Neither am I. If you want me to leave, I will.”

“I don’t.”

Still, the following day he can feel the way the air has shifted between them. He’s not sure if it’s because of the spat—they’d had plenty in the camp, after all—or because of his shady dealings. Regardless, they still have sex and they still share the same bed until it’s time for Nick to fly back north.

Ellis has to work that day and so they kiss before he goes in, whisper their goodbyes, and the older man returns home.

To his relief, their texts and calls continue. He’s unsurprised, however, when Ellis repeatedly tells him he can’t get time off to visit or be visited. He’s able to come for another Christmas, though he leaves before they can celebrate New Year’s together.

Another year down, and Nick assumes the mechanic’s renewed his contract or found work elsewhere. It’s not something he asks. He knows he should, but he doesn’t.

It comes to bite him in the ass when Ellis tells him and their friends that he can’t join them this summer. They’re meant to meet at Rochelle’s this time and Nick figures it’s about the price of the ticket. He offers to cover it—they all do—but their youngest refuses with the excuse of being unable to get time off.

Nick’s pissed and admits as much during one of their calls. He doesn’t have a right to be and he knows it, not after agreeing to wait, but he’s bitter and _lonely_. He doesn’t understand how Ellis can stay away for so, so long. He doesn’t understand how he can become so deeply entrenched in his work that he forgets his friends. That he forgets Nick.

He doesn’t understand the claim of love with no proof of his willingness to chase it.

Above all, he doesn’t understand himself. He doesn’t understand why, when he’d seen this coming, he hadn’t just refused to wait. Though, that’s a lie, isn’t it? He’s in love with Ellis. He’d wanted to give him what he’d needed.

And now it was blowing up in his face. There’d been a reason he’d always been someone to look out for himself first. _This. This is why._

He feels raw and exposed, he feels like everyone can see it, too.

He tells this all to Ellis in less words because he’s shit at expressing himself. Because of that they both grow frustrated. They both snark and snap and snarl into their phones. They both accuse and question.

Ellis ends the call, tight and cold: “Then don’t wait.”

And Nick wonders if they both come to regret that, too.

Weeks pass. Rochelle calls the most out of everyone, save his mother. She keeps contact with all of her friends and before he can even tell her she senses something is wrong. He’s surprised Ellis hasn’t told her and is even more surprised to be informed that she only talks to him once a month outside of texts.

He’s a little hurt by it, too, both for himself and what that says about their relationship as much as for her.

He admits he didn’t handle the situation well, and she agrees. But he can tell in her voice that she’s on his side. She’s upset by Ellis’ behavior, by his avoidance of them, by how unsure he is. For years they’ve been giving him the time and space and for years they’ve been desperate to step in and let him know he doesn’t _have_ to be alone.

Nick listens and agrees: not everything needs to be some deep introspection faced on your own. Especially not for some as outgoing as Ellis.

He texts him that, but it’s still another week before he gets an answer. It’s short, but he can read the remorse in it. Neither one of them are sure where to go from there, so they don’t talk about it. They just… don’t.

And Ellis doesn’t come to the next Christmas.

It’s almost two years before he sees him again. They text and call, though no longer as regular as they had. It’s still easy to fall into deep conversations, to lose an hour or two on the weekend; it’s still so easy to flirt. And yet they avoid talking about _them_.

Nick tries to take a page out of the other man’s book—he focuses on the jobs Sal gives him. He travels more often, just as he had before the outbreak. It worries his mother, though he knows she understands. Rochelle less so. She calls him just about every day to check in because she hates his choice of employment. She offers to give him a job if he wants to move to Cleveland, but he laughs off the suggestion.

He does visit her more often. He gets to know her brothers as well as her new boyfriend, Isaac. He really likes him, even more so because he takes his ribbing in stride and dishes it out right back.

He’s glad when the four of them join him and his mother at Coach’s for Thanksgiving. Diana charms them all, though that’s a given considering it’s where he’d learned the trade. She and Rochelle have already met dozens of times and love teasing the boys together. It’s her worry for the older woman that has her pulling Nick aside just after they arrive.

“You and your mom should stay here. We’ll get hotel rooms,” she says.

Coach’s house has two extra guest rooms, and he reminds her of that. He also gloats a little, “We can get hotel rooms, I make more money than you.”

She looks unimpressed. “Nick, it’s your _mother_.”

“Yeah, and you’re here with your boyfriend,” he reminds her. “You and him take one room, Diana the other. You’re not gonna tell me your brothers _want_ to share a bed.”

That settles the matter and he certainly doesn’t mind having his own mostly-private room to retire to at night. They’re only there two days before Thanksgiving and they’re going to fly out the Saturday after, anyway.

He leaves to get to Coach’s bright and early on the holiday. His mother is already helping to cook and he throws his hands in now and again, too. Mostly he and Rochelle drink and talk. Oftentimes it lapses into them taunting one another. That draws his mother into the conversation who turns it immediately back on him. He smiles through their tag-teaming jokes, genuinely glad to listen and be in the moment.

At least until the moment is overridden by the doorbell. Ellis’ voice follows after their former leader answers it.

Nick’s eyes snap to Rochelle, irritation taking over his brow. Hopefully it’s enough to hide the shock. She hasn’t tried to hide hers, however, so he knows she’s just as blindsided as he is. Diana steps to his side and slides her hand into his and he hates how it comforts him. Ro takes note and puts a hand to his elbow right before Ellis comes into the kitchen.

He has a case of beer in his arms and he looks good, despite the circles under his eyes.

Nick hates how his chest clenches at the sight of him.

Ellis smiles at them sheepishly. “Hey, guys.”

When Coach takes the beer Rochelle steps forward, as she’s supposed to, and hugs him. She’s happy to see him, no matter how unsure she is for Nick. He doesn’t blame her.

The mechanic startles him by hugging him, too. It’s brief and platonic and the conman almost despises it.

Ellis turns to Diana. “Hello, ma’am. Nice’ta see ya again.”

“Likewise,” she says, airy and light. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes and she doesn’t step forward to hug him like she would have a couple years ago.

Nick decides it’s best to use the extra people as a buffer, managing to filter conversation through one person or the next. He lets the others lead it at dinner, which works because he can focus on the delicious food set out across the table instead. Overall, it’s good. The tension eases once they’re filled with turkey and potatoes and booze.

Ellis drinks less than the rest of them, but the gambler doesn’t question it. He isn’t letting himself get drunk either because he still has to drive to the hotel. He ends up going back later than he intends, though. The brothers have long since left, Rochelle and his mother are both yawning, but it’s easy to lose time while slowly sipping a drink and talking. Eventually, he bids them all goodnight.

The mechanic takes note and follows his exit. He asks if the older man wants a ride and, even though he isn’t drunk and his rental car is parked on the street, Nick says yes.

The hotel isn’t far so they don’t get the chance to strike up too much of a conversation. Ellis pulls into a parking spot and shuts off his engine. Nick doesn’t question that, nor when the younger man follows him inside and up to his room. He doesn’t question when he unlocks the door and the mechanic steps in behind him.

Nick tosses his keys and phone onto the desk and turns to him. The younger man crowds into his space and does the same with his items. Then he tilts his head back and meets the conman’s eyes. After a beat he cranes his neck up to kiss him, persistent yet somehow gentle.

The northerner doesn’t intend to shut his eyes, but he does and Ellis takes it as permission to press in with another and then another. He gently rests his hands on Nick’s chest, fists the material when the lips against his start responding and pulls.

It’s like an explosion of everything that’s pent up within and between them. Ellis tastes like beer and sweetness and it’s such a familiar and yearned for taste that Nick chases it with deep, licking kisses. He seeks out the flavor of the rest of his body, too, peeling away his clothes to get to his redeveloping muscles and tan skin.

Ellis goes back on the bed and holds onto the card shark’s hair as he explores, sighing and laughing in turn whenever his older lover nips a spot he knows to be ticklish. Nick strips away his jeans and underwear, ducks his head down to take his hard dick in his mouth, but the younger man yanks him up, kissing him fiercely and impatiently.

His hands are just as impatient, fighting to get his dress shirt off his shoulders completely and then follow suit with his pants. The gambler helps by kicking them away and then crawls back between his legs, rubbing down against him. It’s been near two years and he doesn’t have any lube considering he hadn’t planned on seeing Ellis, let alone thinking this was ever in the cards after their fight.

Ellis wraps his thighs around him tight and sucks marks into his neck while the bigger body rocks against him. Then he’s shoving the gambler off and curving his body to half-hang over the bed and search inside his jacket. Nick takes advantage, squeezing one of his ass cheeks and kissing his lower spine.

The mechanic must’ve thought there’d be a chance, because his hand comes back out of his pocket wrapped around a small bottle of lube. Nick’s about to tease him about it when the younger survivor’s fist gets caught on the fabric. He’s able to twist his wrist to get free, but this also dislodges the other items from inside: two condoms.

Ellis hasn’t noticed, because he rolls right back up, kissing the conman’s jaw.

Nick clenches it against the soft touches and then jerks his head away.

“What?” his former lover asks, breathless.

He sits back on his haunches, erection flagging. He nods his nose towards the floor from where his eyes have yet to raise. “We gonna need those?”

Ellis licks his lips and doesn’t look up. His shoulders sag and so do his hands, dropping away from the older man’s body to plop onto the sheets.

“We gonna need those?” Nick repeats.

The other man takes a shaky, shallow breath. “…Yeah.”

It’s an uncomfortable influx of emotions that wash over him, too many to name and too arduous to ignore. First, he feels cold dread overtake him, rippling up his back in a bitter shiver. The freezing touch numbs him, entices his mind to separate from his shock and so disassociate from the situation. But secondly, from his gut upwards, he feels liquid fury. It sloshes around inside of him, billows up to combine with the betrayal flooding his chest. That fire-hot anger is enough to ground him in place.

Nick moves to the edge of the bed and snatches up his boxers, pulling them stiffly up his legs with uncoordinated hands.

“Nick,” Ellis whispers.

“No.” He stands and reaches for his dirty shirt next, anything to feel as though he has a layer covering him.

The younger survivor is somehow much faster in pulling his own boxers back up so that he can chase after Nick. He catches him by the forearm, though he has no idea where he could’ve even escaped to.

“It was juss two women, I—”

He wrenches his arm away, wishing he’d gotten far enough to obscure the sneer that overtakes his face. “ _Just_? Am I supposed to feel better that you slept with women? To be grateful you didn’t let some guy fuck you?!”

“No! That’s not what I’m sayin’! An’ it’s not like I went an’ picked up some girls, I was datin’ em—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Ellis!” he snarls. “Is _that_ supposed to make me feel better?”

Ellis tries to retake his hands and looks miserable when he fails. “No, I—y’said y’didn’t wanna wait.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. You fucking know it.”

“Apparently I don’t know anythin’!” the younger man snaps back, turning away to hide his frustrated expression. “What was I supposed’ta do after that?! I ain’t in no place’ta stay, ‘specially not now an’ after—shit, after y’started workin’ them jobs again—”

“Don’t you put that on me,” Nick warns. “Don’t pretend it’s too hard to call me!”

“It _is_!” Ellis shouts. He takes a deep inhale and stabs his fingers through his curls. “Y’blew up last time! Don’t tell me yer sick’a waitin’ an’ then act like I—shit, man, an’ you’ve gone right back’ta whatchyou were doin’ before! Don’t try’ta tell me y’weren’t goin’ all around an’—an’…” He hiccups through the tremors that overtake him. “First time I metchya y’had a hickey an’ lipstick on yer collar, I know what kinda stuff y’were doin’… an’ you said you didn’t wanna do it no more!”

“Yeah, that was before you basically told me to get the hell outta your life—unless, what, _you_ decide you wanna get fucked?” He wants to throw something but has nothing within reach to help focus his overabundant anger. “That how it’s gonna be, Ellis?”

“I don’t know,” the younger man replies, dejected. “…Let’s juss talk about this.”

And maybe Nick can understand it being hard, because at the moment nothing seems more difficult than discussing Ellis kissing someone else.

“I can’t,” he admits, strangled as it is. “…You need to go.”

The mechanic gives a little sound—something broken—and gathers up his things. He doesn’t try to get Nick to look at him as he takes his keys and phone. He only pauses once at the door. “Can y’call me? Whenever yer ready… then we’kin talk, okay?”

“Yeah,” Nick lies.

Ellis goes and the conman doesn’t call him that night or the next day. He can’t.

His former lover misses another Christmas and then, just like that, it’s another year before he sees him again.

He does cave and texts him before then. They talk about anything but their fight, their former relationship, or Ellis’ new relationships. Nick doesn’t know if he has more and he tries not to care. He fails, but he keeps that between himself and Rochelle.

He tries to distance them back to friendship. He tries to distract himself just like his ex has. He’s willing to do more for Sal, willing to get his hands dirty for a bigger cut. Willing to stay a few extra nights and share his bed with the women he starts picking up again. Sex helps, more so when he succeeds in not comparing it to what he’d had before.

Somewhere along the way he trips up. He knows Ellis will be at Thanksgiving again—which they spend, this time, at his place upon Rochelle’s request. Diana loves the idea and doesn’t mind hosting Coach and his wife at her apartment. Nick offers the same to the reporter and her boyfriend, but they want their own privacy, as do her brothers.

So, stupidly, he offers the extra room to Ellis.

They all get there a day early and Nick gets drunk. It’s the only way he can think of to deal with his idiocy. The only way to keep his mind off Ellis’ most recent relationship. He’d told Rochelle it hadn’t lasted long, but that just makes the alcohol taste all the more bitter on his tongue. He can tell by her pinched expression that she’s not happy she had to ask for the news, either.

When Ellis goes to the bathroom, she drops a hand to his knee. “You okay? I can get him a hotel room.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says and switches his drink to his far hand so he can cover hers.

She doesn’t look like she believes him because she’s always been too smart.

He smiles because his buzz lets him. “Should’ve flirted with you instead.”

“You could’ve tried, but we both know I probably would’ve shot you.”

Nick laughs with her. “And now Isaac would shoot me.”

“He _did_ put a ring on it.”

He feels it under his hand. He was happy to hear the news because he genuinely likes the guy. He’s also, uncharacteristically, excited for her wedding, but that has more to do with his friend’s happiness rather than the ceremony itself. He still hates the ceremony of it all.

He thinks they’ll make it, though. Believes it enough that he’d bet money on it if asked.

They talk about it when Isaac rejoins them with a drink for Rochelle. He sits on her other side and puts his arm around her, but doesn’t comment, or really care, about the silent support she’s giving Nick. He’s been privy to one too many conversations for that.

Eventually his guests depart for the night; Diana takes her guests and Isaac drives Rochelle and her drunken brothers to the hotel. They’ll return sometime in the late morning to start cooking, he knows, but still, he figures he’ll need an extra drink to get through the night.

He feels like he has no choice when he turns and sees Ellis staring at him with those curved, blue eyes.

They try to watch a movie, but they’re both pretty tipsy and watch each other more than whatever’s on the screen. Eventually, the mechanic’s hand drops to his thigh and he doesn’t move it, nor does he stop it when it seeks upwards.

Nick’s not a smart man. He and Ellis are drunk and lonely and fucked up. Yet none of these facts stop them from going into his bedroom and stripping each other bare.

The younger man says nothing about the condom he pulls out of his drawer, he only moans under the gambler’s weight until they both find their completion.

It’s not a one-off thing, either. Ellis no longer skips out on their visits, no matter where they are. Over the months and years they keep falling into bed with one another and each time he’s more sober than the last. Sometimes they fuck hard and fast and Nick leaves right after. Sometimes he’s a fool and lets the tenderness he still feels for his former lover turn his thrusts gentle. Sometimes he lets it weigh him down into the bassist’s arms to sleep.

Nick’s not a smart man because those times hurt the worst.

His distractions don’t work. He’s got enough money to do whatever he wants. He’s got enough money to throw away, and often times he does just that in one casino or the next. He lets that addiction rule him for a while, lets it win him some floozies and lets it lose him some dignity. Diana slaps it out of him one day, literally, and he promises to stop.

Sad thing is the money he’d lost he makes up between a couple of dirty jobs. He’s unsure which addiction is better.

He knows Ellis to be the worst of them.

But it’s easy to fall into addictions when you’ve got nothing else to preoccupy your time, he supposes.

There’s one summer night where he’s sitting on one of Ellis’ windowsills, hanging outside it so he can smoke. He wonders how long they’ve been doing this. Six, seven years including the camp? He watches his smoke billow outwards and upwards and wonders how long he _can_ keep doing it.

It’s hard to know with the kiss Ellis drops to his shoulder. He’s naked and hard again and that excites Nick, no matter his age. He wraps his arm around that still taut waist and holds him there as callused fingers search his pectoral.

“Y’wanna go again?”

He takes another drag off his cigarette. “Sure, lemme finish.”

Ellis’ squeezes his fingers. “Wanna let me top this time?”

Nick laughs and lets the smoke out through his nostrils. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon. Y’never let me anymore.”

“Maybe next time,” he lies.

He doesn’t know if Ellis believes him or not because he busies himself by mouthing at the older man’s neck and shoulder. It works exactly the way he wants and Nick flicks away his smoke before he’s really finished with it. He doesn’t mind so much when he’s pulled into a deep kiss that lures him back to the bed.

It’s one of the harder times, especially when he wakes in the morning with Ellis asleep on his chest just like he used to prefer, so long ago.

That summer night shakes him so much he takes a longer job for Sal, one that takes him away from everything for weeks. It feels good to be alone for an extended amount of time, minus the calls to his mother and Rochelle, about which he’s always diligent.

It turns out to be a good move for their crew, one that has his boss and the guys celebrating in one of their bars when he gets back.

Nick doesn’t have to pay for a thing, though he thinks Frankie yapping his ear off is payment enough. Leave it to Sal to find muscle that was neither dumb nor silent. Between his eyerolling, the conman tries to find someone to take home for the night now that his body feels lose enough. There’s plenty of women, but his eyes are caught and held by brown ones that have, apparently, been locked on him for a while.

The man smiles when he notices he’s gotten Nick’s attention. Without thinking he smirks back. The reflex is forgotten almost immediately because Frankie pokes too-strong of an elbow into his side to regain his attention. By the time the big guy leaves forty minutes later he doesn’t even remember the white teeth that had been flashing at him until they’re there again in his peripheral.

Nick turns politely when his new companion raises his hand and orders him another round. He’d glimpsed it briefly, but up close confirms the man beside him to be very attractive. He has dark, soft looking hair. He’s styled it forward to frame his face, which helps make his dark eyes look all the bigger. His skin is tan, though not overly so as Nick has seen in some gay men. There’s a cute divot in the cartilage of his sharp nose and his cheekbones look like they’d cut him if he touched them.

_Very different from Ellis_ , his treacherous mind supplies.

His lips are normal sized but have a dark, flushed pink color to them that contrasts prettily against his white smile. “Hi.”

Nick takes the drink the bartender sets in front of him. “Hey.”

“Your friend finally gone, or should I give it another hour?”

The gambler smirks. “He’s gone, but I admire the dedication. You know this isn’t a gay bar, right?”

The man sits and turns to him. “I know.”

“Taking a bit of a risk, aren’t you?”

“Is it paying off?”

Nick likes the question and the audacity behind it. “I’m Nick.”

“Daniel,” the young man says, leaning close. It gives a nice view down his V-neck which is clearly his intention.

“And what are you looking for tonight, Daniel?”

His suitor laughs and says, “A sugar daddy.” Nick figures it’s an inside joke between him and his friends, something they’d laughed about while he’d been listening to his colleague.

All the same he raises a brow at him.

Daniel smiles. “I’m kidding… I just want the daddy part.”

Nick chuffs at that, recognizing that the younger man isn’t lying and that at forty-two he more than fits the bill. Thing is, for all his direct flirting, Daniel doesn’t end up following him back home. He takes Nick’s phone and sends a text off to himself and somehow in the process wrangles a date out of their encounter.

One turns into two and then three. After that he apparently gets a boyfriend, not that he labels it as such. But Daniel does and he’s nice, and funny, and good in bed. And in most ways he’s very different from Ellis. The biggest problem is that Nick is almost _always_ thinking about how different they are.

He knows it’s not fair, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to stop his brain from making the comparison.

They date for a few months, and it’s fun. Daniel’s young, even younger than Ellis is now. He tries to get Nick to go out to bars and clubs. The former he can do, but the latter have long since begun to grate on his nerves. Sometimes he humors him just to watch him dance, while he sits at the bar and wonders if the loud, pounding music is better than a NASCAR race blaring out of his television.

Eventually, and perhaps inevitably, Daniel finds out about Ellis. It’s an innocuous thing; Nick goes to take a piss and in the meantime his phone rings. His boyfriend doesn’t answer it, just catches a glimpse of the name when he looks over from the show they’d been watching. When he asks about him, his voice isn’t suspicious, just curious.

And Nick tells him, at least as much as he’s comfortable sharing. He leaves out the parts that aren’t anybody’s business but his and the mechanic’s. He leaves out the part about how they have sex every time they see each other. He leaves out the part about how much he still loves him.

Daniel’s understanding and patient, which makes him feel even shittier about the omissions. He spots a bit of jealousy on his features afterwards, too, so Nick doesn’t bring up Ellis again. He makes sure not to leave his phone behind no matter how quick he thinks he’ll be in the bathroom.

It’s not really an issue until his friends text him about Thanksgiving. Daniel is one of the lucky ones in that almost his entire family had survived the apocalypse, so he has somewhere to spend the holiday. Nick thinks it’s far too early to join him and, in all honesty, isn’t keen on the idea of meeting his family. He doesn’t tell him that, he doesn’t really tell him much of anything besides that he’ll be spending the holiday with his former teammates. Daniel surmises on his own that that includes Ellis.

He’s not happy about it but he doesn’t want to come off as possessive, so he lets Nick go with a fake smile.

He doesn’t really feel bad about going because it’s Rochelle’s turn to host and she’d been excited as all hell to have her friends in her new house. Nick’s a little taken aback by the size of it when he and Diana first walk in. They learn there are _three_ extra bedrooms to divide among her guests. He idly wonders if, someday, they’ll all be converted into children’s rooms.

They divide it up as they usually do: by age. The remaining question is whether Nick’s going to take the extra or sleep in the basement.

Ellis, as the other contender for the guestroom, follows him in and looks around. “I don’t mind sleepin’ on the couch,” he explains as he shuts the door behind them. “’Course I’kin always stay in here with you.” He grins and Nick stares at his face. Not much has changed about him in seven years, which is pretty goddamn unfair. He’s just as handsome as he’s always been and he’s since regained his muscle and healthy color. No longer are his curved eyes plagued by dark circles.

That makes it easier to read the confusion in them when Nick denies him. “Not this time. They’ll be able to hear.”

“Yeah, basement’s probably a better idea,” he amends. He steps into the older man’s space. It’s hard to remember a reason to turn away from the kiss, so at first he doesn’t. He grabs him hard and tastes between his lips. He wants to go down to the basement right now, but when they part he remembers he can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, no matter how much he craves it.

So, for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t have sex with Ellis. The younger man seems to chalk it up to being in Rochelle’s house and not a hotel room where it’s easier to pretend they have privacy. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s pleased by it.

He finds out the truth during dinner because, to Nick’s discomfort, Rochelle asks after Daniel. She hasn’t met him yet, but he’d wanted to know her thoughts about the situation. He’d needed the outside input after his mother had voiced her disapproval. For how cold she is to Ellis nowadays, the conman knows that’s for her son’s benefit rather than hers. She’d become smitten with the southerner long ago and Nick doesn’t think anybody else is going to displace him in her heart.

He knows the feeling.

Rochelle seems to think it’s good that he’s dating other people. His new boyfriend sounds kind and patient and playful to her, which she says are all things he needs. They tease him about abandoning them for Daniel’s family next holiday season, but he shoots that notion down. Thankfully, the subject changes and it gets all the eyes off him. He uses the moment to check Ellis’ expression.

The mechanic is looking down at his plate, pain shaping his eyebrows. He shakes his head once, but it’s very clear that the motion is at himself.

That makes Nick wonder.

It’s cleared up the morning everyone’s flying out to head home. Nick’s throwing the last of his things in his bag when there’s a knock on the open bedroom door. He turns to find Ellis and motions him in before returning his attention to his clothes.

He hears the door shut and feels the other survivor step into his space. Nick waits until he’s got his bag entirely zipped before turning to face him. Ellis keeps his eyes lowered but raises his fingers and puts them to the gambler’s exposed collarbone.

Nick holds them there.

Ellis smiles a little at that and rubs his fingertips into the skin. He finally lifts his face and watches Nick’s eyes for a beat, then his mouth rises, too, and the northerner doesn’t turn away from the soft kisses he’s given.

The mechanic sinks back on his heels and tries to smile again. “I was thinkin’… um… maybe I could come fer Christmas this year?”

_I’m seeing someone_ , Nick doesn’t remind him. _What’s the point?_ he doesn’t ask. _No_ , he doesn’t refuse.

He knows Ellis has been with Coach and his wife for the last few, but they both know in that moment it’s not where he’s wanted to be.

Nick swallows against the hope he feels building in his throat, though the feeling may also be the fingers circling his adam’s apple. “Sure.”

Ellis doesn’t have to try with his smile this time. He gifts one more soft, lingering kiss, the kind they won’t be able to share in the airport with everyone around them.

_I’ll let you know about Xmas_ , Ellis texts him two days after they’ve been home. It pisses Nick off a bit, but he manages to keep it out of his reply and off his face.

_They’ll hike the prices so I’ll pay for your ticket,_ the gambler texts back, trying to deny him his out.

_Okay_. And that’s what he gets for another week, which is normal and yet somehow still so disappointing.

There’s part of him that thinks he’s made a mistake. It reminds him of all the times Ellis just leaves after, no matter what words they whisper to one another. No matter the marks they leave on one another. No matter how hard or gentle they are.

It calls him a fool for thinking the slight pain on the mechanic’s face was regret. For thinking that anything’s going to change.

But the gambler in him can’t deny the temptation, can’t help but take the risk. Because of that he realizes it’s too hard to detect, let along listen to the voice of reason in his head, so he calls Rochelle.

“You’re an idiot,” she informs him immediately. He knows it, so he lets her continue. “How many years has this been going on now, Nick?”

“Too many.”

“And right now, you have a chance to move on.” She sighs. “But you don’t want to, do you?”

The question stings no matter how obvious its answer.

“Look,” Rochelle murmurs, “I love Ellis, you know I do. I want him to wake up and get back with you.”

“But.”

“But,” his friend repeats, “I don’t know if he will.”

She was sugarcoating it, but he doesn’t need her to elaborate. If she’d been in his position she would’ve been done long ago. But, Rochelle isn’t a gambler, and she sure as hell doesn’t have his addictions. She’s also much smarter than he is.

Even with her words echoing in his head he knows his choice. He’s had worse odds pay off before, but he also knows that before he commits his hand he needs to wait for a few more cards to fall into place. Unfortunately, those cards take days. He tries not to pressure Ellis, but a little bit before the middle of the month he finds himself sitting in his apartment with his laptop open in front of him, illuminating his face with flight details. He has one thumb primed over his phone’s screen.

Ellis picks up on the second ring. “Hey.” His voice is gentle and pleased.

“Hey,” Nick returns. “Busy?”

“Nah. What’s up?”

“Looking at flights…you wanna tell me the days you have off?”

The mechanic hesitates for a second. “I’kin fly in on the twenty-third? That okay?”

“Sure, whenever you want,” the older man says and means it. “You able to stay for New Year’s or…?”

“I gotta work… probably best if I fly back home on the twenty-seventh,” Ellis murmurs. “Is that okay?”

Nick frowns because his sometimes-lover can’t see it. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks with a level voice. “You gotta work.”

“Okay.” They fall into an awkward silence. He knows there’s a million questions Ellis wants to ask. He also knows he’ll pick the one that misdirects them from his other concerns. “Y’sure about the tickets? I’kin afford ‘em.”

“I’m sure. Consider it a Christmas present.”

The younger man tries to smother his snort. “Best not be my _only_ present.”

Nick grins. “Spoiled shit,” he laughs. “What else do you want?”

“To top.”

It should make the conversation screech to a stop, but somehow it just makes the conman laugh all the harder. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

That does give Nick pause. “Are you?”

He listens to the pattern of Ellis’ breathing, deep and steady and healthy. He hears the little chuff he gives and strains his ear to hear more, as if he could somehow make out whether or not his heartbeat is as fast as the card shark’s. Unfortunately, that just makes the key jangling in his door seem all the louder. He turns around, eyebrows high on his forehead, to see Daniel walk into his apartment.

“Hey, daddy,” he teases, referencing their first meeting as he always does.

It almost feels like he’s shouting the words, for how they blare and echo in Nick’s ears and skull. He must not be too far off the mark, because Ellis mutters unhappily into his receiver that he needs to go.

“Wait,” Nick half-chokes. “I’m buying the tickets.”

“I dunno if—”

“I want you to come.”

“Yeah,” Ellis whispers. “Okay.”

The call cuts out and Nick pulls his phone from his ear to stare down at it. Anything to pretend he doesn’t see Daniel frozen in his peripheral. He feels guilty, but mostly rushed for how little time he’s had to prepare for a moment he’d always known was coming.

“That was Ellis,” Daniel states.

“Yeah.”

“…He’s coming for Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

The other man shuts the door behind him, very quietly. He wrings the metal between his fingers. “Did you sleep with him when you saw him?”

Nick stands and steps a little closer but doesn’t go to him. “No.”

“But you wanted to,” he gives a little self-deprecating laugh. “You’re going to.” When he doesn’t get an answer because they both know the truth, he holds up the keys and rattles them a bit. “Guess I should give you these, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Nick says, and he is. He’s laying out a half-baked hand, hoping it’s enough to win the round. Hoping it’s worth all he’s giving up.

Christmas, at least, _is_ worth it. Diana can’t keep up the act and practically crumbles apart when she walks into her son’s apartment and sees Ellis. Nick doesn’t correct the assumption in her eyes, just stands back and watches her embrace him like she didn’t just see him a month ago. The mechanic seems just as emotional about it, if the way his eyes glass over is any indication.

The first night they talk and drink until Diana’s too tired to keep her eyes open. He and Ellis remain on the couch, half-watching a Christmas movie for how often they find themselves watching each other as always seems to be the case when they’re together. The mechanic finally turns to him and asks what he’d most likely been wondering since he’d walked through the door.

When Nick informs him of his break-up he presses his lips together and nods. It’s not his fault, and the older man tells him as much. It’s not on anybody but himself, but when Ellis ends up falling asleep against him, he knows it was the fairest choice he could’ve made for everybody.

They go out the next day, just to feel the cold air on their cheeks and pick out some last-minute presents. Ellis is adamant about wrapping his in the guest bedroom while Nick and his mother prepare dinner. His former lover has to make two trips to put all the presents under tree. When Diana tries to scold him for spending too much money, he grins with an endearing sort of pride behind it.

Again, the three of them spend the night together watching movie after movie. Nick’s the one who passes out first and when he’s roused and encouraged to go to bed, Ellis slips into it with him.

Christmas day they spend dressed down, opening gifts, drinking, and eating. It’s so fulfilling that it’s actually exhausting.

The following day Diana leaves them to their own devices. She knows Ellis is leaving the twenty-seventh and neither of them know if they’ll see him again before the summer. They end up going out again. Ellis is bundled tightly against the cold, but he’s still shivering by the time they get back. They take turns showering and then reheat leftovers.

This last night differs from the others in that after barely fifteen minutes into their chosen movie, Ellis turns his face into the older man’s and kisses him, missing his mark to graze the corner of his lips. Those callused fingers come up and direct his chin so that he doesn’t miss again.

And Nick falls into it, like he always does. It’s hard not to with the feel of his plump lips and the taste of his tongue. The scratch of his fingers and nails through his hair. The breath dusting his skin. The strong, taut body twisting under his.

And he wants it so, so badly. But there’s something that draws him away and when he sees the younger man’s puzzled face, he knows exactly what it is.

If he does this now—if he takes Ellis to his bed it’ll start the pattern up all over again. The southerner will leave in the morning with the knowledge that a few months down the line they’ll do this again. Nick doesn’t know one hundred percent if that’s enough for Ellis, but he knows it’s not for him.

He shakes his head.

“What?” the mechanic asks, licking his lips.

Nick sighs and leans back, away from his hands. “I can’t.”

“…Thought y’said y’broke up—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about you.”

The smaller man blinks rapidly.

“I can’t, Ellis,” the conman murmurs. He smooths his hair back down. “Not if you’re just gonna get on that plane tomorrow.”

Ellis’ brow furrows. “Y’said it was okay!”

“I was wrong.” He’s impressed with how even he keeps his voice. “It’s too hard to keep doing this.”

“Doin’ what? Seein’ me?”

“Ellis,” he sighs. “You know what I mean.” He puts his elbows to his knees and glances over at him.

His former lover moves to sit beside him, staring with unseeing eyes at the television screen. “What do y’want, Nick?”

“Should I be selfish?” he asks, wondering if he even remembers a conversation from so many years ago.

Ellis smiles, but somehow it looks defeated. “Yeah. What do y’want?”

“You to stay.”

He doesn’t. He has a plane to catch and an apartment to live in and a job to work. He’s built a life somewhere else and Nick is only a visitor in it. The gambler told himself these things as he watched him walk into the airport. He tells himself these things during the long days that follow. Even now, nearing the end of January, he tells himself these things.

He hasn’t texted Ellis, nor has he told Rochelle or his mother. He just works and drinks. It’s what he does when he loses. And he’s _never_ been a good loser, but this time it leaves him gutted in a way he’s never felt before.

The people he cares about ultimately notice, but he doesn’t stop to listen to their pity. He finds himself snapping and deflecting, just like he used to. By the time February rolls around, even his mother finds it hard to talk to him.

One day she gets fed up and the next time he opens his door, it’s to her standing side by side with Rochelle, twin frowns marring their faces. He has no choice but to explain everything after his friend hopped on a plane for him. She ends up staying for a few days to knock some sense into him. Sometimes literally.

He fakes feeling better by the time she leaves, though she has succeeded in keeping him from drinking all of his waking hours until Sal needs him again. He thinks she catches on, but she also has a life to get back to, so there’s not much she can do about it.

He, too, leaves for a couple days only to come back richer than before. The score wasn’t without its downsides, though and his busted lip and the nice, ugly bruise on his jaw are a testament to that. When Diana sees she tears into him like he’s somehow reverted back to his teenage years and then doesn’t talk to him for two days.

Sufficed to say, when there’s a knock on his door, he expects her to have called in the big guns again.

What he doesn’t expect is to open it and find Ellis with his backpack filled to the brim on his shoulders and two rolling suitcases in his hands.

“Ellis?” Nick asks dumbly.

“Hey,” the other man smiles, unsure. “…Can I come in?”

The gambler looks down at the bags and then moves out of the way. He’s too stunned to remember to help so he just shuffles out of the way and lets Ellis put the suitcases against the wall. He drops his backpack down, gently, and then turns to Nick.

“Hey,” he repeats.

Nick stares for a moment, feeling his senses clear enough to start putting the pieces together. To start hoping. “What’s happening?”

Ellis puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. “…Didjya know it takes about a month’ta sell half yer stuff an’ get yer apartment clean? I mean, I had’ta put in my two weeks an’ work those, first. Wouldn’ta felt right juss up an leavin’, an’ then I had’ta list my place an’ scrub it top’ta bottom. Then I had’ta figure out what I didn’t need ‘cause ain’t no way all’uv my stuff was fittin’ in my truck.”

The conman hates how wet his laugh sounds.

The younger man beams. “Got a couple’a boxes down there…” He rocks again. “Y’still want me’ta stay, right?”

“Yes,” Nick says without hesitation.

Ellis keeps up that glorious smile for a few more seconds, but drops his eyes away when it starts to waver. He skims one of his hands alongside his nose. It doesn’t stop his voice from wobbling. “M’sorry.”

The northerner crosses to him, reaches out and grasps his wrist to stop him from shrinking into himself.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” the mechanic whispers. He sucks in a breath, but it cracks and he tries to hide the evidence against the shoulder Nick pulls him into. “I really am, Nick. I’m so—”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Ellis shakes his head fiercely and then leans into him just as fiercely. “I fucked up so much an’ fer so long. M’sorry.” He can feel his shirt growing damp, but he doesn’t ease the hold he has on his lover.

“We both did.”

“That’s my fault, too,” the mechanic insists. “If I hadn’t been so weak—”

Nick leans away so he can grip the back of his neck and squeeze it tight in warning. “Don’t.”

His former teammate deflates. “I fucked us up fer so _long_ , Nick. How’kin you forgive me fer that? I don’t even rightly know why I did it.” He tries to turn away, but the bigger man won’t let him. “I meant that stuff I said in the camp… I kept thinkin’ about what a burden I was to ya. All the stuff y’had’ta do an’ give up ‘cause I needed’ta cry all the time. I was useless—worse’n useless ‘cause’a everythin’ y’all had’ta do fer me.” He takes a moment to suck in a breath so he can admit the worst of it. “It was hard’ta look atchy’all an’ not remember that. It was hard’ta see y’all an’ keep rememberin’ my ma’s dead.”

Nick winces but squeezes his hand again, tracing his thumb over one of the curls beneath it.

“It aint’ been like that fer years,” Ellis whispers, “but that’s how long it felt like it took’ta be me again… I juss wanted’ta be the Ellis you got with in the first place.”

“The Ellis I got with was a dumbass, and all I’m hearing is that not much has changed.”

His lover at least laughs at that, though it takes him long minutes to sober. He puts his hand on Nick’s cheek. “Wish I’d listened to ya.”

The card shark knows that’s a futile way to think. As much as they might wish for it, there’s no going back. And that’s got to be fine because he’d gotten to have Ellis, even with all the ups and downs. Now he’s only thinking about keeping him.

“Just listen to me now,” he says, pulling the younger man back against him so he can rest his chin in his hair. “I don’t want you apologizing for the rest of your life.”

Ellis twists his fingers in the back of his shirt, but nods.

They’d just have to put in the work, but he thinks they’re both up to the task. Especially when he considers that Ellis packed his entire life into his truck and drove it fourteen hours north to be with him. And he knows he did it in one shot, too.

“Come on,” he encourages. “Let’s get your shit and put it in the extra bedroom for now.”

The southerner nods again and wipes his face. Then he gets distracted by something on Nick’s. He pokes a fingertip right into his bruise. “Where’d ya get this?”

“Work.”

“…Yer gonna quit now, right?”

“I’m sorry, you’ve been living here for about fifteen minutes and you’re telling me to get a new job?”

“I been pissed about it fer years, don’t act like this ain’t a long time comin’.”

Nick gives him a playful shove out the door, snatching his keys from their hook on the way out. He’s got enough money to leave, but he’s also got enough clout with his boss to take less unsavory jobs if he so wanted. He doesn’t have to decide now, and he doesn’t have to decide alone. They’ve got time to figure it out.

“Hey,” Ellis says as they’re walking down the hall. “I nearly forgot—y’need’ta go apologize’ta yer mom.”

“Wha—? Have you been in touch with her?”

“Nah, an’ that’s why I went an’ saw her first. Needed’ta apologize an’ juss explain a few things.” He falls into step alongside his lover and gives a wry little smile. “Wouldn’t’a been right not’ta askin’ fer her blessin’, y’know?”

“Yeah, and how’d that go?” Nick asks, genuinely curious as he presses the call button on the elevator.

Ellis gives an impressed little whistle. “Didjya know yer mom’s got one’uv the sharpest tongues I ever heard? Not sayin’ I didn’t deserve it, but I felt damn near fifteen years old again.”

The gambler laughs. “Yeah, it’s one of her deadliest skills.”

His mechanic grins. “She ain’t too pleased witchyou either. We should stop by her first.”

Nick sighs dramatically and presses the button to her floor. “’Get a new job, Nick. Go make up with your mom, Nick.’” He quirks a teasing brow and presses their shoulders together. “Any other demands?”

“Gimme a bit,” Ellis murmurs. “I’m sure I’kin think’a plenty.”

Nick doesn’t doubt him. He thinks back on something he’d long put aside—on the metaphor of hope and the future dangling out before them. All they’d had to do was reach for it. It’s gotten out of range a few times, but in that moment he thinks they’ve finally been able to grab it. He gets the urge to take Ellis’ hand and when their fingers interlock it’s almost as if he can feel the way the string becomes knotted around their wrists, fastening them together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story, but I will say to you, if you need help or are going through a tough time, don't shut out those who love you to handle it on your own! You're strong, but so are they and they want to talk to and help you.
> 
> For anyone who feels like they don't have someone to talk to you can always send me a message on my tumblr: Grimmy88
> 
> Stay safe and healthy, everyone.


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